Author's Notes: So due to some life stuff, I had basically a full weekend off with nothing to do, so I banged out the next chapter for you guys. Hope y'all enjoy it. Reviewers-
ManwithaPlan113- Nah, he ain't dead yet. It takes more than a simple whatever-the-hell-that-was to kill a minion of Chaos.
Ronmr- Yeah, there's this whole pride thing where humans love to think they can fix everything. Let's be honest. One single man against a powerful daemon of Chaos? he was boned to begin with. Which makes this that much more interesting.
Abdiel Amaro- Aw, but Slaanesh just wants everyone to have a good time, amirite? Heehee
SomeGuyOverHere- No, it's an 'elder sword.' Not Eldar. The name was entirely intentional, because when your boss is millenia old, he's bound to have some pretty nasty relics hidden about. Making it Eldar would have been a bit too fanboyish for me. That being said, it doesn't rule out a bit of Eldar trickery in the future. Glad you like it. Olga is becoming this weird character in my head where I don't even place her with the original story anymore. She's basically ascended to a standard anime character for me, if you know what I mean. Which isn't to say there won't be snusnu in the future...
The Dungeons of the Black Fortress
Minutes earlier
"Forgive me" Chloe whispered. The young half-elf sat cross-legged, her head bowed, hands clasped together with elbows resting on her knees. Silvery-blonde hair trailed over those hands, spilled down her left side, and hid her shame from Olga. There was no denying the shame in her voice. Humiliation, and shame. That of a child that had failed her parent in fetching water from the well, or left the cows out to pasture and now one of them had wandered off.
It nearly broke her heart to hear the despair in Chloe's voice.
"It was my lack of power that brought this upon us" Olga stated, forcing her tone to remain listless and even. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her young retainer in a hug, to comfort her and promise her that everything would work out for them. But the guards eyed them constantly, and to show such weakness would only endanger them. They had only each other now. They had always had only each other. The situation had changed, but Olga trusted in them both. She was less certain of the mysterious Louk Shannegh.
The guards called him 'The Reaper.' What that meant she did not know, but she had more than an inkling of the source of the fear for which they held him in. It was evident in all the Black Dogs mercenaries. Those that had not been touched by the creature, that is. Though she had not seen the man in action, Olga knew without a doubt he was a force to be reckoned with, an enemy to be feared. Though he claimed to be their ally, and she believed him fully in that regard, she was not so quick to place their lives in his hands. Many made promises. Until he proved himself, she refused to let her life rely solely upon his word.
"You have always served me well" Olga promised the quiet half elf.
"You honor me, my queen." Chloe parted her hands in supplication. "I only regret that I have one life for you. Had I a hundred dark elves, we could ha-"
"The legion served as expected. They are a lawless horde, not a disciplined army. Yet even that could not hold back the power of this Virtuoso. I fear it was destined for this castle to fall. Even an army of our kin could not hold the hunger at bay."
Though her words were free of bitterness, they caused the young half elf to lift her face, revealing her reddened eyes and tear streaked face.
"I will never forsake my loyalty to you, no matter what happened. Next time, I will die for you. You will not be taken by that monster. Not while I breathe!"
Olga merely nodded before casting her gaze up, to the ceiling. A contemplative silence fell between them, and Olga let her mind drift across the mysterious face of Louk Shannegh. His body was that of a young man, still fit and full in his prime, yet his eyes bore the weight of years uncounted. The ancient patience in his gaze, the thoughtfulness in his speech… he claimed immortality, and while she had no reason or desire to disprove that claim, her curiosity gnawed at her. Immortality itself was not something she particularly desired; elves were nearly immortal as it was, and she had seen enough of life to know that endless youth would prove tiresome after an age or so. Rather, the cause of his immortality weighed on her. The man had an aura of wrongness about him, a subtle shift in the air where he walked, in the pattern of his speech and in the lines of his body. Like he was there, but the world shied away from him, tried to separate itself from his form. Like he did not belong. That made her very curious, and such curiosity, she knew, could potentially endanger them all.
Still, she dared to imagine what the truth of this Virtuoso was, and how it connected to the enigma that was Louk Shannegh.
A small smile threatened to spill across Chloe's face. Catching the twitching of lips in the corner of her eye, Olga glanced down at the young woman.
"You have that look" Chloe murmured. "The exact same as when you used to sit on the throne. You really are a queen. No matter where you are."
The rest of it did not have to be spoken. Indeed, Chloe bit her lip, lowered her gaze, and hid behind her clenched fists.
Even though I am losing my dark arts and am imprisoned in a cell, Olga finished. I will always be her master in her mind. The poor child. I took her from one hell only to bring her to this one.
The passage door opened. Olga could not contain the apprehensive grimace that stole across her expression, if only for the beat of her heart, and shifted to inspect the approaching cluster of men. The one called Hicks led them. He was a tall man, with a thin frame and a knife-like nose accentuating his thin, biting features. The light of the creature burned in his eyes, their natural color faded to a coal black lit by the violet flames of binding. That is what she referred to them as, for now. Until her mysterious stranger could give her a better answer. The man strode fearlessly up to their cell, and with a simple gesture sent the guards scrambling to unlock it.
"The boss is calling for you" Hicks announced. Lean hands rested on his waist, thumbs tucked into his pants. Chloe's daggers decorated his belt, sheathed in little slips of leather he had cut crudely into the piece. Chloe glared menacingly up at him, her rage visible, but held in check. Good girl.
Olga started to rise, but Chloe leapt to her feet. Her retainer slipped between them, spitefully crossing her arms in front of their jailers.
"Not you, you stupid cunt." Hicks sniffed in derision and stared past her, at Olga herself. "Looks like it's time for you to shine, your majesty."
Several of the men hooted and hollered, letting out lewd whistles. There were eight of them in total, including their guards. Hicks put a hand on Chloe's shoulder, aiming to shove her aside. Expression stern with determination, the smaller woman refused to budge.
"This one's all starved for cock" Hicks jeered. More crude gestures and sounds came from the others.
Her fears confirmed, Olga suppressed a shudder. She bottled that fear, hid it deep inside her soul. She would not show anything before them. They were vermin, nothing more. Animals clawing for scraps. Did they intend to rape her, and Chloe? She would die before that could be inflicted upon them. "Wait your turn, hussy. Ain't no one called for you yet, but you can bet we'll be taking you up soon enough."
Some of these had been good men, once. Most of them, probably. Anger seeped into her consciousness. Anger at the vile Virtuoso for what it had done to them. They showed no remorse, no humanity. They may as well have been orcs now. If this was what the creature could do, the power it held, Olga feared for what would become of Eostia.
"I…" Chloe's confusion shattered her sternness. "How absurd! Starv… she is a queen you rat!"
"She is a queen" Hicks mocked, causing Chloe's face to flush with indignation. "She'll be the queen of cocksucking, you can bet your fine ass on that. Just look at those lips. I can't wait to bust a but in all her holes. Now, if you would, your majesty."
The man shoved her to the side. Chloe staggered, slamming into the bars separating the cells.
"Keep outta my way, girl. Don't think we'll hold back on you just cause you got tits."
"No!" She stumbled forwards, throwing herself onto her knees in front of Olga. "Please, just take me. Take me instead. Leave her alone!"
"Chloe" Olga whispered, not daring to intervene. The men were getting riled, and Chloe was the source of their growing anger. If she stepped forward, it would go badly for them both. So she whispered to her retainer, and begged her to stand down.
"Ah said," Hicks growled, "no one's called for you yet. So quit being such a hassle!"
He kicked out, catching Chloe in the stomach. Her small frame lifted off the floor, breath exploding out of her lungs in an agonized gasp. Quick as a flash, faster than Olga would have thought possible, Hicks dropped to a knee, grabbed her by her ponytail, and slammed her face first into the stone. Her cheekbone cracked audibly, and the young half elf let out a muted yelp. Grinding her face mercilessly into the stone, Hicks leaned over her and breathed into her ear. "You get up again, and I'll rape ya to death right here in front of your queen. Then I'll cut your arms and legs off and hand your corpse off to the boys. You got me?"
Olga watched, rigid with terror, as tears poured down Chloe's cheeks. Blood mingled with her tears, and Olga bit her tongue to hold her silence. Every muscle in her body had gone taut. She could kill him. Right here, a strike to his unprotected neck. Perhaps she could kill another two or three with her bare hands before they overpowered her. But then she and Chloe would be in for a far worse fate. There was still a chance.
"Enough" Olga murmured. Rising to her feet, she wiped her robes clean. "You have made your point. Chloe, my dear. Stay down. Do not jeopardize your life for me."
"Lady Olga" Chloe whimpered.
"Fear not, Chloe. You need not bring pain upon yourself any longer." She smoothed her hair, running her fingers to set it properly, and stared at the leering men with an imperious frown. "It is the unshakable truth that I have brought misery to the humans for centuries upon centuries, reigning from this Black Citadel as the Dark Queen. As a queen, it is my duty to accept my fate in these final moments. I will neither run nor hide."
"This one gets it" Hicks grunted. He slammed Chloe into the floor once more before jumping to his feet, rocking once as he regained his balance, and gestured dramatically to the door. "Can't say I hate a girl who knows her place."
Her gaze was filled with neither scorn nor disgust. Those emotions were beneath her. These men were beneath her notice. Disdain it was. Absolute, unrestrained, disdain. That these worms had come before her, such pitiful beings claiming to belong to a higher power, lapping at the dew from a great oak tree and claiming its strength. They did not know power. They could not imagine the true definition of the word.
"Alrighty then, right this way, if you please."
Hicks led her along her own passages, guided her through her own castle. It was humiliating, but she bore it in stoic silence. This was not how she had imagined her end. The words of Hicks and his associates tickled at her nerves, nipped at the fears she had long since mastered in the company of the orcs, imps, ogres and trolls. Violation. It had always been a danger, but she had ever held the upper hand. Now that hand was gone, and she had no doubts that these men, pathetic beings corrupted by the damned Virtuoso would be ever fouler than her Legion.
But when Hicks led her into the throne room, her own fears were revealed to be inconsequential to the reality of the creature's doings. The moment she entered the room, Olga couldn't help but furrow her brow. A sour, musky odor assaulted her nose, filled the air like a pungent perfume. It was the mixed odor of men, of orcs, and sweat. The assembled bodies clearly had not bathed in days, since at least the battle outside her fortress. Their bodies stank of sweat, dirt, blood and alcohol. The concentration of them made it that much worse. Horse stables smelled fairer than this odorous throng.
The musky scent offended her.
A hundred Black Dogs mercenaries filled the room, alongside, to her horror, as many orcs. Countless imps and even a handful of ogres filled the rest of the periphery, and every single one stared openly at her, eyes burning with those violet flames. Forcing her growing dread aside, Olga walked through the room with the grace expected of a queen, ignoring the chuckling figures to either side of her. Some called out to her, jeers she had heard in the late night taverns of city slums. It was easy to ignore sounds from something as banal as garbage. These creatures were trash. Giving them the attention of her spite was not worth her time. She continued forwards, approaching the throne that had once been hers. That had once been her grandfather's.
She gazed unflinchingly at the man perched on her throne, though every bone in her body screamed to run away and hide. His presence was overwhelming. That observation was not one of reason, but of instinct. It was nothing as simple as the confident way he carried himself, nor his imposing physique. It was the blood.
Olga had seen Vult before, years ago during one of her hidden trips to Eostia. It had been in Ken itself, during a victory parade after the Black Dogs had utterly crushed an army she had sent into the fens of northern Ken. Celeste trusted her visions implicitly, and in doing so have killed thousands of the vile demons, while losing little in return. At the time, Vult had been a bloody man. He had spilled blood time and time again, bathing his soul in the wretchedness of killing until it had soaked into his very being.
And yet he had been a good man. He was a man she had been forced to recognize. Though his lackeys were insects, incapable of understanding her grand goals and might, the sheer magnitude of his presence forced her to acknowledge him. He was a man of intelligence, of wit, charm and strength. He had been the ideal man, even in her own eyes. Not quite a warrior-poet, but a mighty general who understood more than just the butcher's work of battle. For a short time, she had even fancied him, and considered approaching him with the secrets of her doings. Of all those in Eostia, he may have been the one to understand her, to appreciate what she did for them all. She may have even dared to imagine moving on with her life, after the destruction of the Black Fortress.
This Vult could not have been more an opposite.
Darkness surrounded him, bleeding the light from the torches into shadow, concealing his features like a cloak. What she could make out of his expression was not bloodthirsty or sadistic, nor was it sullen or gloomy. It was, in fact, relaxed. A carefree, wicked smile danced across his gruff face as he violated her with an impudent gaze. His lustful stare was not unfamiliar, but it chilled Olga to her bones. Other beings pictured her naked, imagined what she looked like under her regal clothing. This one had the power to make that imagination real. The realization shook her, if only for a moment, but it came with a dawning horror that she had let her calm and collected expression slip.
The change in her expression had been slight and short-lived. No ordinary mortal would have caught it, but the flickering light behind this Vult's leer told her he had. Her humiliation had only begun, she feared. She smoothed her expression regardless, refusing to admit that a mere human had unsettled her. She was the Dark Queen, after all. The most feared woman in all of Eostia. What was a single human compared to her?
But he was not a human anymore, was he?
"So…" Vult drawled, idly kicking one leg up to rest on the arm of her throne. "You're the Dark Queen."
The darkness in his gaze clawed at her soul. Unable to conceal her discomfort from him, but unwilling to reveal it to the rest of the gathered men, she only cast her gaze downwards and remained silent.
"Gonna ignore me then? Whatever." He gestured with a silver goblet, the one she had used. "I'm in a pretty good mood right now, so I'll let that slide. Although, I must say it's all thanks to you, your majesty. Your land is now mine. The orcs are mine. You. Are mine."
There was a flicker in his words, a barely noticeable warbling in his tone. She allowed her eyes to flick up, for a brief moment only, and studied him. Vult showed none of the signs of the creature she had seen on the others. No violet fire in his eyes or pale obedience in expression. He appeared to utterly normal, so to speak. But it was there, in his voice. That silky-smooth simper of the creature Virtuoso. Had it possessed him? Had the two joined souls? She did not know, but she knew that such an answer would hardly benefit her. It was too late for that knowledge to serve any real purpose.
A snicker of disgust sprang unbidden from her lips. "Do you truly think you have won? Won what? A wasteland. This land has been barren for centuries. I ensured that. I scorched the plains, I salted the fields, I purged it of all life. I made it a hellhole that only the demons could live in. You are the ruler of an inhospitable wasteland. That is what you have won."
"The fly pulls free a leg, and thinks itself free" Vult hissed, his voice growing silkier, smoother, more sinister. Though his face did not change, Olga sensed the sudden chill spreading through the room. The soft current of cold that tickled her skin. "No, there is so much more here than a wasteland."
Vult's smile became more brazen, pulling at the corners of his face and extending beyond what a man's should. He continued to speak, but it was clear he was not addressing her anymore. "My poor, needy men. I have not rewarded you yet. You marched with me to battle against the vicious, stinking animals of the Dark Queen's Legions."
Mercenary and demon alike hooted and hollered at his words, shaking their fists in the air. They shuffled forward, closing around her, hedging her in with a ring of flesh. Their open gazes twisted her stomach; even Olga could not contain her trepidation at the shift in the room. Like a faucet being torn open, an oppressive air had filled the room. The musky stench of sweat and odor did not seem to prevalent now. In its place, a heady sweetness that she knew was wrong. She did not understand how, but she knew it was wrong.
"This is the first time many of us have laid eyes on a pure dark elf, isn't it? She is quite a delight."
"Doesn't seem much different from the dark elves back home" one called out. It was Hicks, she noted. Vult's lieutenant stood the closest to her, sizing her up from behind with glee.
"Oh, but this one is puuure. Untouched, unsullied. The ones you knew were hardly half-bloods. A treat such as this would fetch a king's ransom, even were she a common household slave."
Her attention was stolen back to the Vult on her throne. His eyes had shifted from their dark, harrowing brown to a gleaming violet. Two tongues flicked across his teeth. She shivered, images springing unbidden to her mind of what those tongues could do to her body.
"What matters," the daemon-Vult tittered, "Is that dark elves can bear human spawn. Can't they, your majesty?"
Her knuckles tightened until they were white. Blanching at the thought, Olga closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. They would not break her. Her jaw shook from the tightness with which she clenched it. Her nails threatened to cut into her skin. This would not be the end of it. Slowly, silently, she began drawing what power remained in her. Her magic drew about her, smothered by the oppressive air of this… presence, but it came on. Pooling that magic into her fists, she began reciting the ancient words in her mind.
And when she raised her head, her expression was free of fear. A scornful smirk was on her lips, and she gazed imperiously at the creature on her throne.
"You will not have me, you wretched insects. I defy you with my last breath."
Releasing the spell, she slammed her palms together. A wave of energy exploded outwards, hurling the ranks of men and orcs backwards, cracking skulls against pillars and shattering bones that fell in awkward angles. In the wake of the force rose a transparent barrier, a shield of magic she had drawn from an old spellbook discovered deep in the vaults of this very castle.
"This was not how I hoped it would end" she whispered, uttering a silent prayer for the soul of her retainer. "I am sorry, Chloe. But I choose our death before defilement. We all die here. You, me, the abomination Virtuoso, and all those affected by his corrupt touch."
"I am the Dark Queen" she proclaimed, raising her hands over her head. "I choose death over disgrace. You will join me in hell!"
Her powers were still weak, drained from her reliance on the Greenwyrd. Without her staff, it would be difficult. But she had the will and the strength to see this through. Her soul burned with the fires of untamed magic as she drew deep into the earth, stole the breath from the wind, pulled the magic tight around her body.
A bolt of magic struck her shield. The force of its splintered her arcane shield, a spell of ancient power that should have been nigh impenetrable, and hurled it aside in a flash of jagged shards that flayed dozens of mercenaries and orcs to the bone. The loss of her shield whipped across her body like a strap snapping mid-gallop. Olga cried in pain as she was hurled to the ground, her body going numb from the shock of the blow. A buzzing ring filled her ears, and her vision wavered drunkenly.
Clawing over onto her stomach, she tried to rise, to grasp fitfully at the magic. It fled from her, skittering out of reach. A pair of armored boots crunched down on the stones before her face, half-obscured by loose strands of her hair.
"You dared to think I was unaware of your pride" the daemon-Vult gigled. "So much for the Dark Queen's cunning. You walked right into my trap. Elves are known for their resilient bodies. It takes a lot of work for you to try and just kill yourself. And that's how it works too, right? Interrupt a spell, disrupt the caster midstream, and you sap their abilities. You just stripped yourself of your own power."
Olga chewed on her lip, frantically reaching for the magic that fled from her touch. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. But her body felt… drained. Her limbs weak and useless, barely strong enough to even hold her upright. Her head spun wildly. The dim light of the torches burned like suns. It took her several long moments to realize she was panting for breath. Gods, what had done that? Her spells were unknown to any…
Kin, the mage.
He stood beside Vult. Or, what had been Kin the mage stood beside Vult. The lively and arrogant man that had questioned her in the dungeons had undergone a rapid, and grotesque transformation. The flesh had peeled from his bones, leaving a filmy layer of sinew covering the pulse muscles and tendons of his body. Gaping eye sockets held the charred remains of eyes, two husk-like orbs that should have melted away but rolled loose in their sockets. Despite their loss, and the fact that he had no right to be breathing, much less living, the mage moved as if he were unharmed. And he held the very spellbook she had pored over for so many decades. It had taken her years to master those spells. This mage had done so in mere days. There was no earthly power that could do so. Virtuoso was truly greater than she had imagined.
And she had just played right into its hands.
"I am not finished yet" Olga murmured, her voice slurred. Placing her hands over her abdomen, she stumbled through a few quick words, too quickly for Kin to stop them. A faint red light wrapped around her, soothing her like a warm blanket on a cold day. Gathering over her belly, it coalesced into a brilliant design, glowing like metal straight out of the forge.
The daemon-Vult eyed the design curiously, saying nothing. But Kin let out a shrill, clacking laugh.
"She still defies you" the skeletal mage howled. "A seal over her womb. She thinks to protect herself from the final violation."
"This is my… last… stand" Olga grunted. Dizziness flooded her skull. Fighting to remain standing, she closed her eyes and pictured, just for a moment, Chloe waiting for her in the cells. She would survive this. She had to survive. "My body is sacred. It… an inviolable domain. I may not be able to stop you, but I will not let you have your way with me."
The bastard seemed to enjoy her resistance.
"My precious Kin," it breathed, reaching back to run a clawed finger along the skeletal mage's jaw. The claw drew blood, a dark oily substance that flowed after the claw even once it left the mage's face. "What ever shall we do?"
"I… do not know" Kin admitted, his teeth chattering.
"Then we shall have more time to enjoy breaking her, while you search." The daemon-Vult took a step forward. If Olga had tried to retreat, she would have collapsed in exhaustion.
"This seal… never be broken" she promised. Her words carried far more conviction than she held. It was a weak seal, formed hastily. A mage of Kin's level, with her spellbook, could break it in time. But she needed to believe that would not happen.
"Unfortunately for you" the creature hissed, leaning forwards until its tongues flicked an eyelash away from her, "I have all time at my disposal. There are no such things as 'never' and 'impossible' for the children of gods. Hearing you claim otherwise makes me…" the tongues caressed her ear. Olga nearly wept as its saliva trickled along her lobe. The sensation was like fire. Her breath caught in her throat, and she bit her tongue to keep from whimpering. "Hard. Please, continue to fight. A prize taken without struggle it no prize at all."
It retreated suddenly, pulling away. Olga refused to open her eyes. "Louk Shannegh will come for me."
"I would expect nothing less" the daemon-Vult replied. Turning to summon its minions, it addressed the crowd. Those that had survived stood again, a little more than half the original amount. The dead lay forgotten, ignored. Licking bloodied lips and wiping drool from their chins, the mercenaries and orcs closed back in around her. "As I said, your reward. The spoils at the end of a long road. I offer to you, the virgin dark elf queen: Olga Discordia. Eat her up!"
Rough arms grabbed her and pulled her to the ground. A man grabbed each limb, forcing her legs wide, and for several agonizing moments they all crowded over her, gaping at her body and passing crude comments. An adventurous hand gripped her skirt and tore it apart, eliciting a cheer from the men. The two sets of hands grabbed her corset and repeated the move, while a third snapped her underwear free.
For a breathless moment, the crowd went silent. Staring in awe at her naked body, they ogled and admired. Olga was certain if she could have died from shame, she would have. To have so many sets of eyes violating her without protection; they may as well have killed her. Her face paled as men and orc alike began to adjust their pants. She knew what was coming. Though she had never seen it firsthand, she had a good enough understanding from the demons that had served her. But she refused to cry. To show anything before these vermin would allow them to win, to have power over her. She would endure it.
They could take her body, but they could not take her dignity.
The stench of their cocks stirred her stomach, nearly gagging her. Even now, she refused to struggle. To do so would only damage her own pride, and excite them to perhaps even crueler humiliation.
Hicks pushed his way through the crowd. Bloody scratches covered his face, now showing more blood than flesh, yet he did not seem to feel any pain. Forcing the man closest to her aside, her knelt between her feet and leaned over her, his terrible grin speckled with crimson droplets. A rough hand grabbed her breast and began to yank and pinch. Olga stifled a groan of pain.
"After all these years ruling a bunch of sex-starved monsters, I'd have thought this one a total slut" Hicks joked. The assembled crowd roared with laughter. "Looks like she really is a virgin though. But let's make sure."
Pulling back, Hicks settled his knees against her thighs, pressing them painfully apart, and placed his thumbs on either side of her most sacred place. Olga averted her eyes, trying desperately to see the ceiling, to find some innocent place to focus her gaze to help her survive this humiliation. But the brutes crowded around her, encompassing her in their shadows.
His thumbs dug deep into her skin, and pulled apart. She felt her labi spread, and a cheer erupted among the persons at her feet.
"She's bona-fide!" Hicks shrieked. "Well, fuck all y'all, I'm going to tear her cherry open and give y'all my slopp-"
A thunderclap bang erupted as the massive iron doors of the throne room swung open, propelled as if by the force of a dozen ogres. All eyes turned, most in shock as one of the doors groaned painfully before ripping free of the wall mounting and collapsing with enough force to shake the ground. Hicks flinched, his eyes growing wide as saucers.
And a red bolt of lightning sliced across his face.
There was no screaming at first, yelling or shrieking or any of that. Just the rapid thumping of boots as Louk Shannegh charged down the faded carpet. He held a box, a glowing box that spat lightning that shrieked like the wails of dead spirits. Each bolt of lightning struck a Black Dog with devastating force, punching holes in their bodies yet not knocking them away. Five of them died before the Black Dogs even began to respond. The four men that had held her down all toppled lifelessly on top of her, burying her under their corpse-weight. Hicks fell away, disappearing into the crowd as they sprang to life.
Covered by the dead, she could not see what followed. But she heard the panicked cries, the screams of agony, and the meaty slicing of blades through flesh. Her sensitive ears, still throbbing from the daemon-Vult's touch, ached for the sound of Louk's presence. She knew it was him. He had come to save her. Unable to even move, she whispered a silent prayer of protection for him, and pushed weakly against the bodies. The rancid stench of cooked flesh overwhelmed her, making her retch and her head spin.
One by one, the bodies were torn away. A pair of slim hands gripped the one over her face and yanked it free. Chloe's battered and worried face loomed over her, splattered blood dripping down her cheeks.
"My queen" Chloe huffed, sucking in a breath. A Black Dog rushed at her from behind. Without even looking, Chloe hurled a crude human knife. The blade struck the man in the throat, and he stumbled off-balance, swinging wildly as he staggered past Chloe and dropped to his knees. "Quickly."
Grabbing her under her shoulders, Olga's loyal retainer dragged her free of the last two corpses. Blinking back the sickly feeling swimming in her belly, Olga frantically cast her gaze about for their savior.
Louk Shannegh stood alone before the crowd of Black Dogs, a bloody trail of bodies marking where his path of destruction had led. Fifteen fallen dogs, animals, slaughtered by the whistling sword in his hands. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart hammered in her chest with a sudden, inexplicable stab of terror for the man. The daemon-Vult stood before her throne, gazing down at Louk Shannegh with contempt. At his side, the deathly-pale mage muttered voiceless incantations, hands gesturing in spasmadic, uncontrolled motions. She could sense the magic gathering in the air. They all could. The static crackle of energy rubbing against reality. The mage was preparing a powerful spell.
"We must… stop him" she gasped.
"No!" Chloe pulled insistently, helping Olga to her feet, yet dragging her back to the doors. "Your life alone matters. He will hold them off. If he dies, he dies."
The Black Dogs stood more than fifty strong, before the throne, yet they held back, eyeing each other as much as the lone man before them. The daemon-Vult barked an order in a tongue that raked at her mind; Chloe whimpered and staggered to a knee, clutching at one ear as blood trickled down the side of her head. Six of the orcs rushed at Louk Shannegh, three from each side of the mob. The man's form vanished. He moved so quickly he might have been two men, had Olga not known otherwise. The blade lashed out six times, guided with unerring accuracy, and the orcs fell beside each other, slain so quickly it might as well have been an act of a god.
"Virtuoso" Louk Shannegh shouted, in a voice that was terrifyingly not what she had heard before. This voice was deep, evil, and howled like the wolves at night. "I have come for your skull!"
"What fly challenges the spider" the daemon-Vult spat, its snaking tongues licking along its mouth. "Usurper. You play at powers you do not understand. You cannot control the rage inside you, young one. Come to me, and I will teach you all about… control."
Another group of Black Dogs rushed forwards to their death. In the hubbub of screaming voices and flying limbs, Olga caught sight of her precious black staff, tucked safely on Louk Shannegh's back in a sling.
"My staff!" Prying one of Chloe's arms free, Olga pushed Chloe away and limped forwards. The mage turned its eyes on her, and Olga nearly blanched at the sight of its empty sockets, bleeding orbs of darkness that held no vision. Stretching out her hand, she summoned a current of air that snatched at Louk Shannegh's back. Her staff ripped free of the rope he had fashioned into a sling for it. Spinning wildly, it flew to her hand.
The cool, refreshing touch of her staff sparked a ripple of energy through her, a cascade of magic surging back into her soul as the binding spell burst apart. Her lungs filled with a heady rush of air too pure for the blasted wastes of Garan. Toes and fingers went numb from the overwhelming energy coursing through her veins.
"BEGONE" she cried, channeling her wild power into a single command. The butt of the staff slammed into the stone floor. Hell's gates opened in reply.
Blue flames rushed out of the staff's orb in twin comets of hellfire. Twining like snakes in heat, the comets barreled down the length of the chamber before splitting around the lone figure holding the Black Dogs at bay. Dozens died in agonized screams as the fire consumed them, scorching the flesh from their bones in seconds, reducing piles of the humans and orcs into a charred carpet of bone and metal. The leftmost comet careened towards the daemon-Vult, only to be deflected by an upraised hand. It smashed into a pillar and tore the whole column down, burying a half-dozen orcs under its weight. The other struck Kin full-on. The mage threw up his own shielding spell, but was hurled backwards. The spell was interrupted. It could not harm them now.
"Bitch!"
Hicks staggered out from under a mound of dead. His upper right jaw had been taken by Louk Shannegh's lightning, along with his ear and the side of his skull. Charred brain matter pulsed visibly from the wound. He should not have been standing. None of these creatures should have been standing. But they all were. All the corpses not too mutilated to be raised were lifting up on their own power. It was necromancy on a level she had not seen in centuries.
He limped towards them, holding a keen sword with both hand. Blood drooled from his lips. "I will gut you both and fuck your corpses!"
"You shall not touch her" Chloe snarled. Darting forwards before Olga could stop her, the young half elf leapt high at the man with only her bared fists for weapons. Olga's voice froze in her throat, unable to bring itself out as her retainer faced down this inhuman monstrosity. The seething rage on Chloe's face was something Olga had not seen in a very long time.
Hick's blade slashed up to bisect her in two. It would have caught her under the ribs, severed her spine, and continued on while the two halves of her flopped lifelessly on the ground. Only, Chloe was no there. Midleap she kicked her legs forwards, hurling herself into an awkward reversed flip that skimmed under the man's blade. One foot snapped Hick's jaw into his skull, wrenching his neck so hard the spine clearly snapped. The other clipped his shoulder and used it to push off, completing her momentum to spin her about and land on her feet, one leg splayed wide, her head level with Hick's knees.
Hicks toppled to the ground, the flesh of his neck ripped free of his chest. Blood spurted noisily out from his severed wound, and his body remained unmoving. Not stopping to admire her work, Chloe wrenched her daggers free of the man's belt and slid them into their proper sheaths.
"Gods" Olga breathed, wrapping Chloe in a tight embrace.
"No more delays" Chloe snapped, wrapping an arm around her liege's waist. "We must run."
"Not without…" Olga craned her neck to look back. "Louk Shannegh!"
The man turned for a moment. Rage poured from his very skin, seething waves of hatred and fury that she felt from halfway across the chamber. Yet he calmed, his expression growing stern, and in that brief moment of gazing into his eyes Olga sensed that peculiar weight in his soul, the touch of age that did not belong in so young a body. The grevious pain of loss after loss after loss.
Without a word, the man broke into a run, sprinting away from the throne and towards them. The daemon-Vult cackled madly from the throne, lifting his head to let loose a baying call that shook the dust of ages from the walls. The rising corpses went rigid at the sound, frozen in place by the creature's command. They remained motionless as Olga, Chloe, and Louk rushed past them all.
"Flee, flee, flee while you can" the daemon-Vult cackled. "Run for a lifetime; I will catch you in the end. A good spider never lets his prey alive."
She tried to not let those words linger, but as they hurried through her castle to the courtyard, Olga could not shake the terrible fear rising inside her. Even as Louk Shannegh hacked his way through a phalanx of confused Black Dogs, and Chloe rushed to the stables to find them horses, she moved along numbly, struggling to imagine the scale of the beast inside.
What was Virtuoso? Was it a god? Was this what a, Celeste forgive her, True God was?
Her thoughts were interrupted only by their mysterious savior grabbing her forcefully by the hips and lifting her up to Chloe's waiting arms. Olga bit back her emotions as they rode out of the Black Fortress, a host of Black Dogs swarming after them. The daemon's laughter echoed in her mind even as the castle faded to a speck on the horizon.
